*PLEASE NOTE: The following may contain explicit language and content which could be found triggering.*

​I’m terrified.

As I sit here writing this, my body is overwhelmed with fear.

That itch of panic climbs its way up my throat, begging to be released into tantrums, tears, an anxiety attack, or some other unknown. Because that’s what anxiety is, right? Fear of the unknown, fear of the possibilities, assumptions of possible outcomes.

I’m terrified because I feel like an imposter. ​

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Okay, it’s been a couple weeks, and I want to talk about what’s been up.

On Fri, Oct 20th, I had what can only be described as one of the most powerful, moving, emotional, and beautiful performances I’ve had to date: I had a single release show, and reached all of the goals I’d set for it.

I'd spent so long and put so much heart into the show, when it ended, I suddenly found myself confused, unsure of how to proceed, and facing post-show letdown.

​PMS sucks. If you are or have ever been a woman, you know this. You feel me.

If you're not, you've probably heard tell of this dreaded time, or maybe you've been on the other side of a loved one's PMS-induced distress.

As a woman in my mid-20s, PMS is a thing that happens for me, sometimes unpredictably, and always, it seems, with a determination to bring me down and reduce me to loud, wailing tears.

I’m rebranding, and I’m freaking terrified. 

I ran a blog for a few years and delved into pieces of myself I didn’t know existed until they presented themselves on my Tumblr page.

Honestly, I worried a lot of people. And, I inspired people. I wrote about topics that weren’t discussed enough, and that was good - and I wrote from a place of pain, trauma, and suffering…and that was not so good.